


The Sensible One

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Jealousy, Multi, OT3, Swearing, Threesome - F/M/M, interspecies sexytimes, not as nsfw as one might hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy wants to bring the Doctor into their relationship, Rory is harder to convince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sensible One

Amy's solution to Idris dying is to demand a night on the town, which Rory suspects also involves some “let's forget everything” from the Doctor dying in front of them. It's a classic Amy solution and Rory doesn't mind at all after the second pint. Their lives are too complicated for easy answers, which means the easy answers are the only ones that work. 

The Doctor's drink is blue and gold and was selected after much careful sniffing and questions about chemical content that the barman couldn't answer. It seems to work, whatever it is, because the Doctor's started nodding his head to the beat of what's apparently supposed to be music. 

Amy's somewhere on the dancefloor. Rory looks for her without much luck until the Doctor says, without even a glance, “Two metres behind me and five to the left.” And there she is. 

“How do you even do that?” 

The Doctor shrugs. “It's a thing.”

Rory catches Amy's eye and she smiles, returns to the table they're sitting at but doesn't sit down. She prods Rory's shoulder. “I want to dance with someone,” she says pointedly. 

“Amy, that's not even music, I can't dance to it.” He's quite comfortable drinking space-beer and watching the aliens move with the beat. 

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Doctor?”

Rory opens his mouth to say that he _will_ dance with her, but the Doctor's halfway to his feet before he can think of a response that doesn't sound possessive. Then he's stuck with the half-empty glasses, watching them disappear into the crowd. 

The Doctor doesn't dance, as it happens. He stands almost immobile as Amy twists and turns around him. Rory would be grateful, but Amy's doing one of her more seductive dances, lifting her arms round the Doctor's neck and pressing herself against him. Drinking was a bad idea.

They're talking about something, occasionally glancing at Rory and then returning to their conspiratorial discussion. He's pretty sure they're not planning to run off and leave him there on his own.

The Doctor looks over at him, tilts his head almost imperceptibly and Rory breathes out relief. He gets up and goes to replace the Doctor, but then the alien doesn't move away from Amy, just takes Rory's hands and places them on her hips, trapping her between them. 

Amy giggles and wriggles and turns to face her husband. Rory feels the Doctor's hands resting just above his own. “Do you know what the song's called?” she asks.

Rory shakes his head blankly. 

She laughs. “You tell him, Doctor.”

“I think it would sound best coming from you.”

Amy nods and says “I want to fuck both of you.”

Rory stares at her, can't think what to say and it's the Doctor who breaks the silence with “That's the name of the song.”

“Right.”

“Are you up for it?” Amy asks, almost casual if it weren't for the sparkle in her eyes. 

“I think you two have had too much to drink,” he says, torn between pulling away and staying to stop anything happening. 

The Doctor sniffs Amy's hair and says “She's sober enough to know what she wants.”

“And I want to fuck both of you,” she says. 

“Well, that's not going to happen,” says Rory. Amy pouts and he says “No” like he's telling her off.

The Doctor comes to Rory's rescue. “No means no, Amy.”

Amy leans her head back against the Doctor. “I can talk him into anything.”

“I don't think that would be ethical.”

Rory takes Amy's hand and leads her across the dancefloor to their table. The song changes and Amy doesn't ask again that night.

 

“It's just a fantasy,” she says the next night as they wait for sleep. “You have fantasies too.” She turns onto her side to look at him. “I bet any amount of money that you've thought about me getting it on with another woman.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't want it to actually _happen_. I'm not asking you to go gay for me in real life.”

“It wouldn't make you gay, don't be so sensitive. He wouldn't touch you if you didn't want him to.”

Rory sighs. “You just want an excuse to have sex with the Doctor.”

“I don't want him if I can't have you as well.”

“Then you can't have him.”

“Spoilsport,” she says, like it's nothing.

 

“Have you ever been with a man?”

The Doctor looks up through the glass floor. “What does that have to do with whether you pressed the green button next to the typewriter?”

“I have pressed it, but I was just... curious.”

“Oh, to understand the human mind,” says the Doctor to himself. To Rory he says “Yes, and I should hope that isn't a problem for you.”

“It isn't. Really.” Rory puts down the spanner and wipes his hands on his jeans. He kneels on the glass. “Was it serious?”

“I did get married to one.” The Doctor shrugs. “Long time ago, doesn't really matter any more.”

“What happened?”

The Doctor stares through the glass and through Rory. “He was taken from me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It was my own fault.” The Doctor tilts his head. “You've been thinking about what Amy suggested in that nightclub.”

“A bit.”

“You don't have to get into anything you don't want.”

“I wouldn't want to... I mean, I wouldn't do anything gay. But I have thought about... watching.”

The Doctor raises his eyebrows. 

“What?” asks Rory.

“Just thought you were a bit possessive for that.”

“I'm not possessive!” he protests.

The Doctor gestures a surrender. “All right, no offence.”

“I'm not saying I want to do it, but if it happened I wouldn't hate it. That's all.”

“Can we get back to fixing the gyro-regulator?” asks the Doctor.

“Okay.” Rory stands, turns back to the console. He wonders why the hell he even raised the topic.

 

Rory's job on the TARDIS – as he himself defines it – is to stop the other two doing stupid things. Stupid things include – but are not limited to – running into danger and being overly heroic. 

Sometimes, he also has the horrible feeling that he's there to stop them having sex.

He finds them lying on the glass floor in the console-room, laughing about something and Amy's hand shouldn't be so high on the Doctor's thigh, and the Doctor certainly shouldn't be stroking her arm like that.

Rory coughs significantly and they look up at him. 

“Rory!” cries Amy, gesturing for him to join them. “You remember Harry Saxon? The Prime Minister? He and the Doctor go way back and... oh, you have to hear it, it's _hilarious_.” She prods the Doctor. “Tell him.”

“Well,” says the Doctor, “he and I were in bed, and -”

“You were in bed with the Prime Minister?” asks Rory, confused.

The Doctor shakes his head. “He wasn't Prime Minister at the time. _Anyway_ -”

“It's after midnight,” says Rory. “We should go to bed.”

The Doctor whispers something in Amy's ear and she roars with laughter once more. She looks up at her husband as her laughter subsides. “I thought you didn't want to have sex with the Doctor?”

“I don't!”

“You said we should go to bed with him,” she points out.

“I didn't... are you two _drunk_?”

The Doctor and Amy look at each other, doing that silent communication thing that Rory hates at times like this. 

“Little bit,” says Amy. “Sort of.”

“I'm brewing some temporal shandy in the laboratory,” says the Doctor, helpfully. “We're going to drink it tomorrow, but the effects happen _before_ you actually drink it, and...” He shrugs. “It's timey-wimey,” he says, and starts to giggle.

Rory looks at his wife, who is leaning against the Doctor and smiling. Her hand moves another inch along the Doctor's thigh and Rory decides that this has to stop _now_. He reaches out to her, offering to help her to her feet. 

She waves him away. “Don't be such an old maid,” she says. “We're having fun. So it's late. We're in a _time-machine_ , and we can take tomorrow off.”

Rory looks to the Doctor for help. “Why do I always have to be the sensible one?” he asks.

“Well,” says the Doctor, appearing to sober up somewhat, “we _were_ going to offer you some of the alcohol, but apparently you'll say no.” He pats Amy's leg. “Up you get, Pond, the other half wants you to get some sleep.” He shakes his head. “Humans. Always sleeping. Don't know how you manage it.” He gets to his feet, somewhat shakily. “I have to... do something to the TARDIS.”

Amy giggles. “Are you going to have drunken sex with your time-machine?”

The Doctor shrugs. “I don't know. I might. She's getting quite randy in her old age.”

Amy gets up as well. She yawns. “I suppose I could do with some sleep.” She kisses the Doctor's cheek and pats his arm. “See you in the morning.”

She takes Rory's hand and lets him lead her to their bedroom. When they get there she throws herself onto the bed, kicking off her shoes when she hits the mattress. “God, I want to have sex with that man,” she says. 

“Forsaking all others,” says Rory. 

“Hmm?” she says, half into the pillow.

“That was in the ceremony when we got married. You do remember when we got married, yeah?” 

“Oh, shush,” she says. “I'm not actually going to _do_ anything about it.” 

Rory takes off his jumper and sits on the edge of the bed. Sometimes he really hates the Doctor. 

 

Amy wakes up without a hangover and goes – of course – to find the Doctor. Rory walks with her along the corridors until they find the Time Lord asleep next to an open panel on the wall. 

“Wow,” she says, “looks like he actually did it.”

The Doctor lifts his head and opens one eye to look at them. “Shh,” he says. 

Rory bends down to look at him more closely. “Are you okay?”

“Temporal shandy,” says the Doctor, opening his other eye. “Really bad idea for time-sensitives.”

“Shouldn't the hangover come first?” asks Amy. 

“That would be silly,” says the Doctor. “And, no, I didn't.”

“Didn't what?” asks Rory. 

“I didn't have drunken sex with the TARDIS.” He puts a hand on the wall to help lever himself to his feet. “I did however fix that weird noise she's been making when someone boils the kettle. Whoops,” he says, losing his balance slightly and falling against Rory. 

Rory holds him upright. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The Doctor pats his chest. “You,” he says, “are a fantastic nurse. Excellent bedside manner. Do you have one of those little upside-down watches? I used to wonder if the time ran out of those. You know, because of gravity. It doesn't, of course, because time doesn't work like that and neither does gravity.”

“Oh, he is so out of it,” says Amy. 

“I think we should put him to bed,” says Rory, propping up the ailing Time Lord. “Where does he usually sleep?”

Amy shrugs. “No idea. I _assume_ he has a room, but I've never actually seen it. Just put him in ours, yeah?” She helps Rory guide the Doctor along the corridor. “Can you imagine if the Silence could see him now? Or those fish-vampires. Or anyone, really.”

Rory laughs. “He's not half as impressive like this,” he agrees. They arrive at their room and negotiate the Doctor through the door.

The alien stirs as they move him towards the bed. “What am I doing in your boudoir?” he asks.

“You're going to bed,” says Amy, bending to remove his shoes.

“Thanks for the offer, but I'm not really in the mood.” 

“To sleep,” she clarifies. “Alone.”

“Oh.” He falls onto the bed, yawning. “I'll just have a little nap,” he says. 

Rory nudges his wife. “We should probably give him a bit of privacy.”

“Yeah. Night, Doctor,” she says, but she doesn't get a reply.

 

 

On the next planet Amy almost dies. Rory carries her back to the TARDIS, follows the Doctor to the medical bay. He lays her on the bed while the Doctor hurriedly sorts through the medicine-cabinet. 

“What do we do?”

“We keep calm,” says the Doctor, who doesn't seem to be doing too good a job of that himself. “You're a nurse, I'm a doctor, we can make her better.” He fills a syringe and hands it to Rory. “Bit out of practice,” he says, “probably best if you do it.”

“Is this the antidote?” asks Rory, looking for a vein. 

“Probably,” says the Doctor. 

Rory looks up at him. “What do you mean probably? Is it or isn't it? I'm not injecting random chemicals into her until we get the right one.”

“Calm down, Pond,” says the Doctor. “You're no use to her if you're panicking.”

Rory takes a breath, nods, deals with the injection. “Now what?” he asks. 

“We wait.”

 

 

Amy wakes up an hour later. Rory kisses her forehead and smiles at the Doctor. “It worked,” he says. 

“Of course it worked, we're professionals,” but the Doctor seems just as relieved as he is.

Amy sits up. “Okay,” she says, “never picking flowers on a strange planet again.”

“You couldn't have known,” says the Doctor. “ _I_ should have, but I wasn't paying attention. Sorry.”

“I really thought we were going to lose you,” says Rory, taking her hand. 

She pokes him in the chest. “See? Dying? Not funny.”

“I haven't died in a while,” he says defensively, “and it's not like I do it on purpose.”

“All better now,” says the Doctor, eager to move on.

Amy looks between them, a speculative look on her face.

 

“No,” says Rory, but he can hear the lack of conviction in his own voice.

“I almost died,” says Amy. “There's certain things I want to do _before_ I die, so I think we should start ticking them off.”

“You couldn't want to go bungee-jumping instead?” he asks. “It really has to be one of your weird sexual fantasies?”

“It's not weird,” she protests, “you're both hot.”

“How would it work?” he asks, and he knows he's going to crack. “I mean, logistically?”

“What, you've never seen porn?”

“Not that sort. I find naked men sort of off-putting.”

“Well,” she says, matter-of-factly, “I was thinking we could start with you putting your-”

Rory holds up his hands to stop her. “Why don't we just see what happens?”

Amy kisses him. “I've wanted this for ages. You go and get the Doctor, I'll put on that red lacy thing that you're so fond of.”

“Okay,” says Rory, and he knows they're nearing the point of no return. 

 

 

It does work, just about. It's a bit awkward to start with, but Amy's eager and the Doctor's almost certainly done this sort of thing before, so Rory lets them take the lead. He watches them kiss, watches them undress each other, takes Amy's hand when she reaches out to pull him into their embrace.

He enjoys it way more than he expected to, even kisses the Doctor a couple of times and it's not _bad_ , just different. The whole thing's just different. 

They lie together afterwards, Amy in the middle and all of them touching. 

“That was great,” she says, practically glowing.

“Yeah,” says Rory, “it was.”

“Do you think this changes things?” she asks. 

“It almost always changes things,” says the Doctor, who is just about old enough to be wise.

Rory props himself up on an elbow to look at them. “In a bad way?” he asks. 

“In a good way,” says Amy, with certainty in her voice. “For a start you two don't have to be jealous of each other any more.”

“I wasn't jealous,” says the Doctor. 

“I was,” Rory admits. 

“That was a bit obvious,” says Amy, and to the Doctor she says, “You're such a liar, by the way.”

“I prefer to think of it as being economical with the truth. It's usually for the best, I find.”

“Well, if we're going to be in an interspecies ménage a trois,” says Amy, “I don't think we should be lying to each other.”

“Spoilsport,” says the Doctor with a yawn.

“And no yawning,” she says, slapping his leg, “I'm totally ready to go again.”

Rory laughs and leans over to kiss his wife. He takes the Doctor's hand as he does so, keeping the three of them together. 

It's really not bad, all things considered. It probably won't last forever, but he knows he'll always have Amy, and in any case he never really expected to stay with the Doctor for the rest of his life. He's fairly sure it'll be great while it lasts.


End file.
